


v i v i f y

by aknowngay



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2017-10-19
Packaged: 2019-01-19 11:20:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12409347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aknowngay/pseuds/aknowngay
Summary: Ashley probably should have told her he moved house before she showed up on his door step, freshly outside of 'the inside'. There are very mixed feelings regarding Jasmine Thomas in the little village of Emmerdale. When the vicarage door opens to instead reveal Debbie Dingle, 'mixed feelings' is a pretty accurate description.ORAfter being released from prison, Jasmine returns, on probation, to pack the remainder of her life together before setting sail to anywhere but Emmerdale. Bumping into Debbie sets off some ol' sparks. (If you don't know Emmerdale that well, it's mostly just angst and the occasional murder, this rendition will be a lot gayer.)





	v i v i f y

" _Oh_ , ‘ello."

 

The silence that falls between them is naked; not dressed in preparation for the hurt and confusion aroused by the sight Debbie takes in before her.

 

"I... eh, I was lookin' for Ashely." Jasmine explains.

 

"He moved."

 

Jasmine parts a smile at her bad luck, the way she always did, but with less... Life. Her smile; it’s detached from any emotion she feels. She adjusts the strap of the duffle bag on her shoulder (holding her few remaining possessions) and shoves her hands in the pocket of her hoodie.

 

"...I can see that," she pauses, "d'you know where I can find him?"

 

Debbie stretches her neck slightly, the way she always did when she's fighting with her inner monologue. It takes a lot to shock Debbie Dingle. Calling names and throwing punches is pointless. Like wading through mud, push and pull as hard as you like, she absorbs all efforts. Yet... Jasmine Thomas. Older, skinnier, paler. Prison has stripped the life from her sparkling brown eyes. She looks real, not the enchanted little girl she snuck into the woods for kissing. She is broken.

 

_Why are you here? What do you want? Why isn't it me?_

 

None of it escapes Debbie's mouth; all she lets herself say is:

 

"Edna's."

 

Jasmine nods, convincing herself this whole situation isn't torture for both of them. _Of all the people_ , she thinks, _I'd rather have bumped into Cain. At least now I could do him one._ Debbie has changed so much: her once pale skin now baked with a sun kissed glow; her dark hair streaked with lines of gold. As if she's trying to lighten herself as her insides grew darker. Jasmine can see it in the mechanic's eyes, the hollow of hurt she never lets anyone fill. She realises they've been staring at each other in silence for a while.

 

"I should go," Jasmine tells herself aloud.

 

She turns to leave. Debbie feels herself lurch into an unexpected panic. She can't be alone, not if there is an opportunity for the opposite. She can't keep calling Charity round. Her face quickly redresses in a calm façade before calling out:

 

"Jaz, wait."

 

 _Jaz_ . Not Jasmine, _Jaz_ . It slipped her tongue like it always did. _Jaz_. It's a request, not her usual command. There's an almost soft quality to her voice. Jasmine realises she must have missed so much, Emmerdale being Emmerdale. The vicar doesn't even live in the vicarage any more, goodness knows what else has happened. What she saw on the news with that Cameron bloke was probably just the apex. The tip of a massive blistering iceberg of secrets this village is swarmed by. It's soften Debbie and roughed her up all at once.

 

"Ashley's out of town. Just saw him go for the bus,"

 

There's a pause, Jasmine turns around ready to thank her for the warning, what comes next is a bit more surprising.

 

"Could make you a cuppa."

 

A statement, not a question. All hypothetical. Debbie wouldn't be foolish enough to actually invite her ex-con ex-girlfriend into her house for tea and cake.

That's just not how the world works.

 

"I don't think that's a good idea, Debbie," Jasmine controls her voice.

 

Debbie smiles unexpectedly. Jasmines heart flutters. _I knew we'd be forever_... she bites her lip, _no, stop that. She's being polite._ Debbie rolls her eyes as if she doesn't want to say the sarcastic comeback Jasmine knows she's prepared.

 

"Nuffin' we do is ever a good idea."

 

In complete honesty she was hoping to avoid Debbie all together, mostly for Debbie's benefit but also her own. Debbie was her weakness. Like when you scratch just underneath a cat's chin and they instantly purr. Totally vulnerable. She follows Debbie into the house in silence. It's a strange feeling, being shown into the kitchen of her old home. It's like walking in a dream world, it doesn't seem real.

 

Debbie wordlessly gestures to the stool at the kitchen island before moving over to the kettle. Jasmine takes her seat, dropping her bag on the floor by her feet, taking a look around. She's definitely changed things. The tacky nineties wallpaper has dissolved into a regal purple. _Very Debbie_. Her eyes wander over a picture hung on the wall, of _Debbie and Sarah and-_

 

"You've got a little boy."

 

It was so easy to vocalise everything around Debbie. _That stops now_ , she told herself, _it's_ _not you and her anymor_ e, _just you_. Debbie tenses slightly at the question. Thankfully the kettle boils, Debbie quickly turns around from the counter she was leaning on to steep two mugs of Lancashire brew. She watches the tea bags polluting the water as it crashes into the mugs. _We all start out so bloody perfect_ , Debbie finds herself thinking, her memory filled with nostalgia in Jasmine's presence. The brown leaves taint the water's purity. Debbie knew she was never 'pure', but she'd gotten a whole lot more murky since she last saw Jasmine. It made their little affair feel like a weak cup of the stewed mess her life had slowly churned to.

_What have I turned into?_

 

"Yeah, Jack."

 

"He's gorgeous, is he-"

 

"Andy's, yeah."

 

Debbie places the mugs on the table with a little more force than necessary. Jasmine - surprisingly - doesn't flinch. She slips her skinny frame into the seat opposite Jasmine's. There is a horrid familiarity from their last meeting... _and we are, but in here---_

 

"So you're-"

 

"No, we not together," Debbie cuts in, "Sarah got sick. She's better now."

 

"Oh."

 

Jasmine laces her fingers around her mug, feeling the warmth melt into her hands. It's nice.

 

"I'm sorry to hear that."

 

"It's fine."

 

The conversation stalls. M _ay_ b _e_ this _was_ a bad idea _..._

 

\---

 

 Debbie relates a few funny tales of the Dingle's antics; explains Cain is back in town; what is happening with Laurel and the kids. Jasmine says very little. She finds herself fascinated by the discrete changes in Debbie. Watching her speak is like an out of body experience. The way she slouches over the work top counter instead of sitting bolt upright, the way she used to. The languid drawl of her words compared to her younger snaps and snides. There is little room left for judgement in her. Her fear of the unknown removed. Eventually, the kitchen is exchanged for the living room sofa.

 

"Been out long?" Debbie asks, as if she is discussing the film she's planning on seeing that weekend.

 

They sit on opposite sides of the sofa. Debbie's legs are curled beneath her. Jasmine sits straight with her feet firmly grounded. Strangely, Debbie feels her guard lowering. Jasmine however, is still on high alert as the subject changes. She'd been rehearsing the answers to _'how she's been doing'_ for weeks _._

 

"Couple of days," Jasmine swiftly replies.

 

Begrudgingly taking the focus from Debbie's troubles to her own.

 

"I'm on probation, Ashley offered to take me in as a sponsor."

 

She doesn't know why she feels the need to clarify her return to Debbie. Yet, it's as if she is invading unmarked territory and must explain her presence. Probably because prison isn't high on her list of--

_‘T hings I want to talk about’._

 

"Didn't think to tell me he'd moved, the silly man," Jasmine half smiles.

 

"So you'll be staying in the village?"

 

Jasmine grimaces as she processes over the question. The idea of moving back back into the vicarage had made her feel giddy enough, let alone moving back to Emmerdale. She could just imagine the polite conversation:

 

_What have you done for the past five years, Miss Thomas?_

 

**_Oh, I was incarcerated for beating a man over the head with a chair leg till he died,_ **

_he was trying to sexually assault me though---_

 

"Oh, _God_ , no," she began vaguely, “I just need to wait till my probation's up then--”

 

Jasmine's eyes drift from Debbie's concern gaze to the clock on the wall,

 

" _Wow_ , I should get going actually. Guess I lost track of time."

 

Jasmine jumps to her feet, making a brief sweep of the room to locate her coat and bag.

 

"What? But that's not faaair-"

 

Debbie makes a terrible cover up of masking her alarm, adding an uncomfortable chortle.

 

"Well, I don't want to be a nuisance to Edna. Heaven knows _she_ won't want---”

 

**"You could stay here."**

 

Jasmine's heart stops. Or at least, that's the way it feels. She looks back over her shoulder from the doorway, just to check if she was imagining things. Debbie stares blankly back at her, It wasn't a command, or an offer, just a statement. A hypothetical situation. With the _slightest_ hint of supplication.

 

_This is a really terrible idea._


End file.
